First the more negative one:

*****

goodbye, my love

by Charles Bukowski

deadly ash of everything
we’ve mauled it to pieces
ripped the head off
the arms
the legs
cut away the sexual organs
pissed on the heart

deadly ash of everything
everywhere
the sidewalks are now harder
the eyes of the populace crueler
the music more tasteless

ash
I’m left with pure
ash

first we pissed on the heart
now we piss on the ash.

from The People Look Like Flowers: New Poems

*****

I especially like:

everywhere
the sidewalks are now harder
the eyes of the populace crueler
the music more tasteless

ash
I’m left with pure
ash

 

I know it’s  kind of a downer but it captures a part of my current mood.

Then a longer one by Louise Glück.

*****

The Nest

A bird was making its nest.
In the dream, I watched it closely:
in my life, I was trying to be
a witness not a theorist.

The place you begin doesn’t determine
the place you end: the bird

took what it found in the yard,
its base materials, nervously
scanning the bare yard in early spring;
in debris by the south wall pushing
a few twigs with its beak.

Image
of loneliness: the small creature
coming up with nothing. Then
dry twigs. Carrying, one by one,
the twigs to the hideout.
Which is all it was then.

It took what there was:
the available material. Spirit
wasn’t enough.

And then it wove like the first Penelope
but toward a different end.
How did it weave? It weaved,
carefully but hopelessly, the few twigs
with any suppleness, any flexibility,
choosing these over the brittle, the recalcitrant.

Early spring, late desolation.
The bird circled the bare yard making
efforts to survive
on what remained to it.

It had its task:
to imagine the future. Steadily flying around,
patiently bearing small twigs to the solitude
of the exposed tree in the steady coldness
of the outside world.

I had nothing to build with.
It was winter: I couldn’t imagine
anything but the past. I couldn’t even
imagine the past, if it came to that.

And I didn’t know how I came here.
Everyone else much further along.
I was back at the beginning
at a time in life we can’t remember beginnings.

The bird
collected twigs in the apple tree, relating
each addition to existing mass.
But when was there suddenly mass?

It took what it found after the others
were finished.
The same materials – why should it matter
to be finished last? The same materials, the same
limited good. Brown twigs,
broken and fallen. And in one,
a length of yellow wool.

Then it was spring and I was inexplicably happy:
I knew where I was: on Broadway with my bag of groceries.
Spring fruit in the stores: first
cherries at Formaggio. Forsythia
beginning.

First I was at peace.
Then I was contented, satisfied.
And then flashes of joy.
And the season changed – for all of us,
of course.

And as I peered out my mind grew sharper.
And I remembered accurately
the sequence of my responses,
my eyes fixed on each thing
from the shelter of the hidden self:

first, I love it.
Then, I can use it.

from  Vita Nova by Louise Glück.

*****

Both poems are to me about a sort of desperation. One reacts with anger and despair, one with unreasonable optimism. I relate to both.

In “The Nest” I like this:

It weaved,
carefully but hopelessly, the few twigs
with any suppleness, any flexibility,
choosing these over the brittle, the recalcitrant.

and

It had its task:
to imagine the future. Steadily flying around,
patiently bearing small twigs to the solitude
of the exposed tree in the steady coldness
of the outside world.

and of course this part of the ending:

And as I peered out my mind grew sharper.
And I remembered accurately
the sequence of my responses,
my eyes fixed on each thing
from the shelter of the hidden self:

There is something compelling in the bird building its nest out of refuse. Just as there is something about trying to be human and fix one’s eyes “on each thing from the shelter of the hidden self…”

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Election Brings Seasoned Politicians to Congress – NYTimes.com

I’ve always thought term limits unnecessary. There are already term limits built into the system. We call them elections. According to this article, the new House of Representatives will include nine people who have already been in congress. God knows we need real leadership these days to sort out the partisan madness.

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Who Will Hold Colleges Accountable? – NYTimes.com

One sentence especially struck me in this article:

many students at traditional colleges showed no improvement in critical thinking, complex reasoning and writing,

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Bradley Manning lawyer: soldier’s treatment a blemish on nation’s history | World news | guardian.co.uk

Not so much coverage in the US media of the first time Manning’s lawyer speaks out in public. Hmmmm. Let’s see. Oh  I remember, the media is pissed at him. Margaret Sulliven (NYT Public Editor) covers the bad coverage well:

An Empty Seat in the Courtroom – NYTimes.com

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